


Reunited

by AilemaJSix



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut, no-nonsense love, possessiveSansa!, softSandor!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 01:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12025110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AilemaJSix/pseuds/AilemaJSix
Summary: “How is this not a dream? His fingers traced firmly along her legs and up her sides, “aye, even I couldn’t envision such perfection.”How I see the reunion, and then an added chapter for smut because that what we secretly want.





	Reunited

**Author's Note:**

> I'm kind of no-nonsense about their relationship. As far as I'm concerned, they love each other, basically always have, regardless of the type of love portray situation to situation. A reunion after so many years with a man that wanted to save, continued to do good for her sake, is the biggest symbol of love to me.

It was easier not to think about it. Actually, it had been really really easy to forget about her for the most part since he had been kept so occupied, but now that he was heading directly towards her, riding on a horse in the snow, heading towards Winterfell. Worst part now was he knew that the little wolf bitch was there too. He could only imagine what the two had said each other by now.

~~

  
“I left him for dead.”

“You what?” Her voice was small, there was an unpleasant hitch in her gut with her sister’s words.

“When Brienne fought him, he fell off a cliff, and I found him at the bottom, broken and bleeding, and left. He was on the list after all.”

Sansa’s face remained stoic as she took in the information. It had some how been easier when Brienne had told her of the turn of events, but now she knew the details of their trip together, something in her ached.

Her sister and her bonded for every night since they removed Littlefinger from their lives, and a warmth grew every time. It was difficult not to be angry at her sister though. _Sandor…._

  
The gates opened, and the King of the North appeared on the other side of the gates, followed by the queen and their very large entourage. Men flooded through filling the courtyard, but Arya ran pass the Lady and practically jumped Jon’s horse, almost as if she were 10 years old again. Sansa smiled and approached Brienne, relieved that sending her south was not the death of her...

“How are you Brienne?”

“I’m as fair as I can be in these times milady.” She dismounted, but before both boots touched the ground, a second head of red fiery hair appeared. Sansa almost sniggered as Tormund eagerly eyed Brienne, the blond alarmed by his eager presents. “Yes?”

“Welcome back” he smiled, causing Brienne to gulp. Sansa’s eyes drifted away as it became abundantly clear that Tormund might not be shaken off as easily as he had been previously. Jon’s banner men surrounded him, and the queen Daenerys was being introduced to the lords. Sansa approached, knowing that she needed introduce herself.

  
~~

Sandor wasn’t too keen on the pleasantries and introductions. He drifted to Tormund and Brienne, realizing that he’d come to prefer Tormund’s company and humor to be around the most. As he walked up, he noticed that Tormund had already found his lady love. He closed his eyes and shook Tormund’s words out of his head regarding his rambling of monster children. His eyes scanned the groups, automatically drawn to a flame of red hair. He felt his mouth go dry as he saw the lady of Winterfell shake hands with the Mother of Dragons. His feet marched to her before he even decided consciously to do so..

He stood quietly behind her for several moments, politely standing like he’s always done his whole life. Well, maybe perhaps not politely previously, but he figured the word was close enough. His hand sought out the crook of her elbow, and she turned around slowly with hesitation, not understanding who was approaching her.

All of her breath fell out setting eyes on the man. Jon grinned, having noticed Sandor sometime ago. Sansa’s eyes opened wide, staring at him in disbelief, her lips gaped trying to form any words. There seemed to be a silence around them, everyone suddenly keen to understand why the Lady of Winterfell was out of words.

She turned about fully her hands grabbing both of his wrists. She started to squeeze up his arm dramatically, then grabbing his face, pulling it side to side. He looked at her alarmed by the sudden manhandling, he certainly didn’t expect that, but she continued, as if looking for something.

“Brienne told me she killed you.”

“Aye, nearly did.”

“Arya said that you were broken and fighting infection already and that-that…” Sansa shed tears in front of the whole courtyard for this man. It was his turn to gape in surprise. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from her in her reaction towards his reappearance, but he certainly did not  think she would cry. His breath was knocked out of him when she crushed him in a hug. His arms wrapped around her shoulders tightly, _there is no way I’m going to argue with this end though…_ He pressed his unscarred cheek against her hair, inhaling deeply. Jon looked on with amusement and surprise, Sandor suddenly feeling self conscious, and suddenly finding it hard to resist wanting to hide against her hair even further, but he dared not brave such a bold move with clear intentions.

“YOU’RE SUCH A FUCKING LIAR CLEGANE” was heard behind him, and the deep laugh of Tormund could be heard following. He tightened his grip on Sansa and turned his head to glare at the wildling man.

“Fuck off!” was all he could manage before he got distracted by Sansa’s chuckle.

“You lied? Bad dog” she whispered, and Clegane snapped his face towards her

His eyes wide, “What did you say?”

Sansa’s face flushed deeply red, redder than the cold had made it, and it felt like he could stare at her now very womanly face for a very long time. Her flustered appearance reminded him of her when she was younger, but knowing what she said and why she was currently flustered sent a very primal desire through him in a way that he never expected. He released his hold and gripped her shoulders with a gentle squeeze, and then felt before her. He lifted his head to her, and stared into her eyes that have become curious to his actions.

“I wish to serve you as your sworn shield,” he drew out his blade and pierced the ground before him. His eyes looked up at her, piercing her eyes with his gaze. “I want to serve House Stark.” She did not look upon him with flush any longer. Her lips pressed tightly as she contemplated his request. Fully well knowing that the court eyes were on them, her Lady of Winterfell face appeared, and her lips glinting at a smile.

“Sandor of house Clegane, second son of a southern lord has come to serve as a sworn shield.” Sansa stated, ending a bit breathier than she wanted.

~~

 _Did he really just do that. God did I really say that? How could I be so stupid and bold. I know he heard me, and he...didn’t want me to be embarrassed?_ Sansa looked to her brother who was now standing by her side.

“You have spent years already protecting my sisters. You saved Tormund from a desperate situation during our survival up north. No one asked any of this of you, but you have come to our aid over and over. I want to know why.”

Sandor’s eyes were a bit wide, and he swallowed hard chancing a gaze at Sansa who’s full attention never seemed to have left him.

Sansa gasped as he turned way, his gaze having felt like an intense burn on her soul. She had always wanted to know what his motivations were, but never dreamed that she’d ever here the question asked.

~~

Words failed him.

He _knew_ why he did it, but he was just having a difficult time thinking of a public way to say it without completely embarrassing himself. A.k.a. lying.

“I respected Ned Stark far more than I ever did any member of Lannister family, excluding the short one,” _Okay, not exactly a lie…._ an amused grunt was heard “I’m not sure how much I really saved either of his daughters, but I will say that I did what I could in caring for them both regardless of the situation.” _I could have done more…._

In all reality, it was a pretty long list. Yeah a lot of it was selfish, but he did teach Arya and Sansa both methods to protect themselves.

Who was he fucking kidding he really--

“I accept your offer Sandor Clegane.” He felt both Stark children place their hands on his shoulders.

“I will serve you till my dying breath” his eyes did lot leave Sansa’s, nor could she look away from him.

~~

 _Alright so aside from the army amassing to the North of us, and Cersei Lannister still breathing, I basically have everything I’ve asked for._ She broke her gaze away only when he stood, and Jon looked at her with a particular glance, “Sansa, where is Littlefinger?”

It was Arya’s turn to appear, Sansa and her both making eye contact, and then bursting into an unexpected laughter. The men stared, confused by their sudden ruckus laughter. A few other lords laughed, and the entire keep seemed a little confused.

“Lady Arya cut his throat, and the hall ran red,” a Northern lord stepped forward “northern justice has been found for Ned Stark truest conspirator”.

Jon looked a little alarmed, “If you’d like, we can review the evidence piled against him?” Sansa spoke, a deviousness present that had Clegane intrigued. “We can stay out here in the cold courtyard, or perhaps you may want to retire to the halls?”

“Aye, I think we can all agree upon those terms.”

~~

Sandor couldn’t recall the last time he felt this relaxed. He had a pint in one hand, a full belly, and a clearview of who he regarded as the most beautiful woman in Westeros.

“You love her, don’tcha?” Tormund growled in amusement, having snuck up on the quiet man. “I knew you couldn’t resist the charm of a ginger.”

He grunted, but looked on.

“I didn’t take you for be’n fond of the soft type.”

“Aye he must be madly in love Tormund, and so must she,” Jon sat on the side of Sandor, and he about spit out his ale.

“What in the hell are you going on about Snow?”

He turned fully towards the man, and Sandor paid him the same respect, “Don’t fuck with me Snow, I’m not foolish enough to think that your young pretty sister would be interested in the likes of me.”

“I spent every day with her for weeks after we reclaimed the keep, and I could hardly get her to broach a smile. She sees your ugly mug and she is over the moon.”

Sandor wanted to look away, but he stared on at Jon, not sure how to process the words. How accurate was it?

He looked across the hall at her. She stood up, her cloak long gone, her black dress contoured to every inch of her upper body, hugging all the down to her thighs.Unconsciously he swallowed as he tried to invision the idea of her actually...being attracted to him at all.

_Bad dog._

Her whispered words left quite the mixed impression.

~~

“Do you think he’ll ever stop staring, you'd think that he'd have enough courtesies for you” Arya jested, Sansa yet again very aware of his eyes on her. All she could do is squirm in her seat, feeling like a bad child under scrutiny. She stood, needed to pace or something, and ended up just standing still not sure what to do with herself. 

“Sansa, are you...what?” Arya looked at her sister, and saw a change in her expression, “is my big sister, the Lady of Winterfell… in love with the Hound?”

Sansa turned her head to object, but her eyes said everything Arya needed to know. She fled before Arya could get up.

“No wonder the man wasn’t meant to die.”

~~

Sansa fled to the Godswood, as it remained a quiet place in the castle. _Tossing around the word love like...like it’s so simple. I have no idea what this feeling is, I...felt joyous to know he was alive. Was I too forward in...yes I was immensely forward, not that anyone heard me. I’m not even sure now if Sandor really heard what I said..he must have. That’s embarrassing._

She donned a black pelt shawl in the cold night, but she did not feel the chill. Rarely was Bran away from the tree, but even now he was frail and the cold could eventually shoo him away. There was certainly much more peace here than there ever was at the Red Keep.

Many times she had indulged into her thoughts, imagining what might have happened had she left with him. Had she found him on her journeys by taking another path.

“I hear it was you that killed your cunt husband, I’m curious to know how. That seems to be a mystery to most.”

She turned to him, her brow up in a peculiar pose. Sandor wanted to hear her kill story. Something dark and thrilling ran through her. It was strange to have that bond with another person, to be the reason and hand of someone’s demise.

“I think you’re quite familiar with the tactic of starving the hounds before a battle.” She started to walk around around, as if to kite him in a fight to find a weakness, “he apparently never got around to releasing them in the midst of battle.”

She stopped for a moment, looking away, “I know that he used them on his step-mother and their babe.” Her throat felt tight at the thought. Her eyes turned to Sandor, and they were almost as blue as the Night King’s. “He begged me, even after they bit off his nose.”

~~

Sandor looked at the ice of the Lady of Winterfell, and terrifying it was. The wolf had fangs, and she knew how to use them. The wicked portion he considered the Hound stirred a bit, satisfied by the little bird’s tale. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes.” She continued prowling around the man, as if she were contemplating his fate.

“Were you the one who really killed that cunt on the throne?”

“No, I believe it was Olenna.”

The torches behind her against the entrance wall illuminated her copper strands and lit his vision on fire as the red leaves danced in the wind behind her. Fire surrounded him it felt like, and he’d let this fire consume him. “Why have you come?”

That’s not exactly a question he really could an answer.

Was it maybe because he wanted to show her he wasn’t the craven man she last saw?

The Hound was dead.

Again, he knew he should have prepared an answer. He stood up straighter, his eyes looking for hers.

“Winter has come.” Still craven afterall.

“I see, so you’ve come to fight. Why are you here?” She pointed to the very ground, and tilted her head to the side, her brows high, almost mocking him.

His own brow furrowed, almost surprised by her tone. He was not there to play games, something in him wanted to eliminate that image off her facade. In three long strides he was before her, and that was all it took for the harshness to vanish. He leaned in close to her face, the orange of light distinctly in her eyes, unshed tears. Doing the only thing he knew that would open her up and gentle her was a chaste kiss, placed on her forehead.

“I want to protect you.”

She embraced him before he finished the sentence, and silently she cried on his chest. Sandor’s eyes closed as he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her long auburn locks that had never left his mind for a single day. It haunted him. He did not think that he would have been missed in such a way. He almost could fathom it, and his heart tightened he also tightened as he felt himself onslaughted with tears himself. They fell lose and chilled his cheek egging him to brush them off in her hair. It was like silk…

“Don’t ever leave me.” She stated, muffled in chest.

“Yes my Lady.” He arranged his arms on her back to cover it as much as he could, wanting to bare her from the chill. “I wouldn’t even if you had tried to send me away.”~~

“I had no idea” Arya stared off the parapet, watching Sansa and the Hound embrace. Little sister’s eyes widened as she saw the enormous man pick up his sister and spin her. “By Gods, they’re both in love. She looked away, actually feeling like she was intruding.

“Neither of us knew, I feel awful leaving him to die.” Brienne had already turned away as well, and her and Arya looked at one another.

“I’m just relieved that I didn’t _actually_ kill him.”

~~

She had started to hum, and neither of them purposefully started to move, but before Sansa knew it, Sandor had started dancing with her under the tree to the melody of her hum. He pulled away to arms length and smiled, picking her up and swinging her around by her hips. A laugh erupted from her lips as she realized she weighed nothing to this man. She leaned forward towards him, and he fell back a little bit as they collided together.

“Escort me to my chambers” she whispered to him. Sandor looked upon her in gentle manner. He was genuine, whatever happened to him, whatever spurred this, she couldn’t fathom. Despite the cold around, she was very warm. Slowly hands crept up and cupped his cheeks, pulling him down to kiss her lips once again.

It was a short mature kiss. They walked away from the Godswood, and into the warm halls of the interior. The torches illuminated the halls and the noise could still be heard in the main hall.

“How did you really end up north?” She asked, prodding about his journey.

“Well, I’m sure you heard lots from your sister. I suppose much happened afterwards…” He started to review his autumn in his head, looking for a good starting place. “A brother of the seven had found me, and patched me up. I stayed in that village until some rouge Brothers without Banners road in demanding their wealth and stores, I had been away in the forest…”

She felt the tensing in his arm as he spoke of the event. Others that surely gentled his soul. She knew of the slaughters occurring in the riverland. “I sought my own justice, and in doing so, found Berick and Thoros already taking care of them. They convinced me to stay with them. Thoros showed me a vision of the north.”

They were before her door, and she stepped in, but he did not follow. She turned, “do you wish to retire to your own quarters?”

She did not have to ask twice, and he stepped in quickly.

“What was it like?”

“Jon showed up at East watch, we had already been there, imprisoned for some time. Not one in that room felt comfortable. That Gendry lad is Baratheon’s bastard, and he apparently was suppose to take the black, and saw traded off to some red woman that was going to sacrifice him to the Lord of Light. We all had a mutual cause though, to head north, to see the army.

“I need wine,” he sighed, a haunted expression befalling his face.

“So we got to that part of the story,” already pouring from a decanter on the table between the two of them, “I was prepared for that. A dornish sour that had been stashed in a set of reserves that remained secreted during all of the different occupations of the keep for all these years. I hear it’s age only gives it strength.”

“Littlebird remembers we a bit too well it seems.”

He drank from the goblet deeply, and slammed the cup down. “Our first encounter was bear actually, twice the size of any bear I’ve ever seen, and showed no fear as it ripped through the men like rag dolls…”

Silence sat pregnant for a moment, the warmth becoming stifling.

“It bit into Thoros, and I stood terrified, damn Beric, fucking bear was on fire in the middle of a snow storm, the fucking fire…” there was a screaming silent agony reflected in his eyes. “He survived only to die in his sleep.”

He slouched in his seat over his knees, staring at the ground. He listened to the wood of her chair slide against the stone floor, and her steps across the stone with a whisper of her dress. Her hands rested on his back and shoulder. He placed his hand over hers that sat over his left shoulder. “It was a death that I regretted. A death that I did not prevent, and…

“We sat on a slab of rock that extended out the surface of a frozen over lake that wasn’t completely solid. It was hours in the bitter cold, in the dead of night surrounded by a hundred thousand corpses.” He lifted his head and turned to look over his left shoulder, “winter is coming Littlebird, and I will do what I can to keep you safe from it.”

Sansa circled around his right side that was away from the table to face him, and he looked up at her from the chair. Without standing he pulled her in close and pressed his face into her stomach, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders a mother may comfort a child.

~~

Arya had been staring out at the white for awhile when she could hear the steps of someone unfamiliar in the snow. She didn’t bother to turn, still surprised by what ran through her mind.

_My sister, the one who chased pretty princes and sang and read of knights all her life, fell in love with an ugly brute of a man. Do we live in backwards land where the ugly sister gets the pretty guy?_

“M’lady, it’s good to see you made it to Winterfell after all.”

Arya blinked, knowing that she ignored the approaching man, but couldn’t fathom…

She turned and looked into the boyish face of the blacksmith she left the Red Keep with. “How did you..?” It was her to pinch and prod in disbelief, just like her sister, “but how did you find yourself all the way up here?”

Arya smiled so brightly, this day only got better and better.

“Why don’t we go in, and have a chat?” He extended his arm out to her, and she took it, for the first time in her life, embracing the courtesy.

~~

Hours slipped by as Sansa and Sandor talked. Or didn’t. The moon was occasionally visible through the high western sky clouds. Sandor stared blankly into the embers of the fire, noting the chill that seeped through the window. Sansa had fallen asleep on the bed, laying on top of her blankets still dressed. Sandor guiltily looked over at her, the moonlight bathing her hair in a dull light that barely revealed the copper tones that were truly there.

He got up, and clumsily undid his belt and kicked his boots off, but then paused. Not sure if he should snooze on the bed similarly or stay in the chair. Taking a step towards the bed he knocked into the table, and Sansa stirred, drowsily sitting up halfway, looking side to side.

“Sandor?” she mumbled, a little bleary eyed.

“Littlebird?” He stood still, “I didn’t mean to stir you, I was just…” _thinking of joining you on that really large bed…_

“Please come here, don’t leave” she pleaded.

“No I won’t go.” He stepped heavily over to the bed and just took his tunic off. He noticed she started to remove her dress, a grey silk slip underneath. She turned the blankets over, and took her lead. He wanted to question why this felt so easy, maybe because he was so tired? Maybe he had allowed himself to invision it too many times? Her hands hugged around his arm as he laid on his back, and he slipped his fingers around hers as she reached for his hand.

Sleep came easy.

 


End file.
